I came across some random musings from a while ago when I cleaned my room yesterday and, at risk of sounding like a bit of a wanker, I thought they were interesting enough to serve as my first trial post on this tale thing, so here they are:
Fireworks are funny in a way. They signify the beginning of the end. Once lit, they burn bright in the eyes of many, only to inevitably die starkly against the black sky. Some smoke, the lingering smell of gun-powder and a ringing in one's ears are all that remain. I imagine love to be the same.
Relationships start with an explosion. Bang! A rush of tightly packed emotions exploding outward between two people. And yet still, all too often it seems that just like fireworks that love glows ever dimmer. Fainter until the tiny sparks that once were bright are no more. The two people that were so close grow farther apart.
Other parallels can be drawn as well. There are different types of love just as there are different types of fireworks. Some are loud, massive explosions. Intense affairs. These are perhaps the passionate relationships - hard, fast and usually ultimately ending the quickest of all forms. Then there are those fireworks that sparkle and remain aloft the longest. Maybe those are the substantial relationships built on long-term friendship first. They require more patience, care and preparation on the part of the 'firework maker'. However, they also often leave the most lasting impression on everyone in the crowd, and thus everybody looks out for these types of fireworks. Finally, there are the fizzers. These are the fireworks that never quite come to a head, despite the effort expended in making them. There is the bang as they are shot off from the launcher, yet no explosion follows. These are perhaps the most disappointing of all types because the sense of anticipation is clearly evident, but they are never given a true chance to catch alight.
= P
Pete "Spunky" Frisky
- 16 years, 3 months, 16 days ago
